How Long I've Been Alone
by iamstormageddon
Summary: My first HMB fanfic. Candy saves Batman from imminent death. Both reveal their struggles. R&R please!


**Hey, guys! So I just discovered that this subsection of FF existed...yes! Here is my addition to the already wonderful collection of HMB fanfiction. Enjoy, and don't forget to REVIEW to tell me how I did and if you want another chapter! Thanks, guys! Love you!**

The hard tile floor is freezing, and the cold shoots through my bones. For the 300th time, I flick the flashlight beam across his face. _Still out cold, _I think. I don't know how much time I have left to wait for him to wake up. I've got bigger fish to fry, but still…I just felt like it was my duty to take him into this empty supply closet in the warehouse, where he'd be safe.

Just as I'm about to give up and leave, I hear him stir. "What…what the…where am I?" His low, rough voice is weaker than usual, but it succeeds in shattering the quiet in the closet and sending a chill up my spine. I point the flashlight just below his face so I won't blind him. "And…who are you?" In response, I turn the beam onto myself.

"Candy? What are you doing here?"

"I saved you," I reply simply.

"You _what? _Saved me? Bruce Man doesn't…oh, shit, I mean, Bat Wayne…_fuck!_"

"Bruce, relax. Your secret identity isn't exactly a secret."

He looks at me in exasperation. "Are you kidding me? I try so hard, and people _still _find out!"

"It's alright. Doesn't make much difference, anyway. It's still you."

Sighing, he replies, "Well, I guess you're right, but…howexactly did you save me? I can't really remember it too well."

"Well, Sweet Tooth and you are battling it out, and he punches you in the face, knocking you out. So of course, I'm watching this all unfold from around a corner, staying out of the way as usual. But when he's got you down, I just couldn't keep out of it. I had to save you. I mean, you come all that way to get Robin out of danger just to get killed yourself? Not on my watch. So when he's holding onto your arms, ready to throw you into the vat of hot chocolate, I run out and knock him away. Then, I just throw you over my shoulder and run as fast as I can in the other direction before he could follow us. Now it's not easy, with you on my back, but I try my best. But as long as we're in here and we keep the lights out, we're safe if he tries to find us," I finish, and I take a deep, much-needed breath.

His eyes are wide. For the first time, I notice how bright they are. And blue, too, like the ocean. "Candy, you didn't have to do that."

"Well, aren't you glad I did? If I didn't, you would be dead, and Robin most certainly would be dead, too. He doesn't have any powers. Sweet Tooth and his goons would have killed him on the spot. I bet he escaped."

Shaking his head, he replies, "No, he's looking for us. I know Robin. That's the thing he would do." A slight pause. "He's…he's a brave kid. He's only ten, you know. Not a lot of ten-year-olds can do what he's done."

"I don't doubt it, Bruce."

Silence permeates the room once again. Neither of us do anything. We just sit there. Then, in a sudden act of why-the-hell-not, I throw my arms around his shoulders and give him a hug, because God knows he needs one after tonight. He seems surprised, but returns it. When I pull away from him, I can see his eyebrows furrowed into one line.

"Wait…aren't you evil, Candy?"

"I don't consider myself evil."

"Then why are you Sweet Tooth's girlfriend? Because he's really evil. And why would you betray him to save me?"

"I don't really want to talk about Part One of that question."

He smiles. "It's alright. I won't tell. I mean, who's gonna listen if I do? My butler?"

"You have a butler?"

"That's not the point, Candy." Dear God, that smile again.

I avert his eyes, hoping he won't make me talk about it. I'll talk about anything but that. But then, as if by magic, my mouth starts moving, disconnected from my brain.

"We've been together for the past year and a half. When we first met, his hair wasn't that ugly powder-blue. He didn't even look like a villain. His hair was blond. When we first started the relationship, it was great. He had a well-paying job as the CEO of a candy company. We'd go to the park and cook fancy dinners at home. But that's before he got fired. After that, he lost all his well-to-do, respectable friends and started hanging around the sketchy people in town. He started using coke and LSD…behind my back, at first…and after a while, he'd come home sometimes and he wouldn't be even able to speak in comprehensible sentences. It was terrible. In those months, and now, even, you can't even really call it a relationship. God, he hates me. Or at least that's what it seems like. Whenever I 'get in the way,' he just sort of throws at me whatever he's got his hands on. And when it gets really bad…" I pull back the neck fold of my dress, where Bruce stares in disbelief at the multiple bruises on my back. "It's especially bad when he's on one of his trips. It makes him see things, and then he starts making those awful candy puns…he's so controlling. Always telling me what to do, like I'm a dog instead of a human. He never lets me see my friends, what little friends I have left. I feel so empty and alone when he's with me. And he doesn't even tell me he loves me anymore, not even a 'Morning, Candy, how'd you sleep last night?'" _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. _"I'm just his little Barbie doll, running around doing evil things with him…or I guess, just hanging back and watching while he does all the work, just like at home." I don't realize how long I've talked until I feel Bruce's hand on my arm. My eyes flick towards him, and his face is filled with more empathy than I've ever seen from Sweet Tooth.

"Well, I think you're great."

I roll my eyes, even though his expression sends a little _pang _through my heart. "No, you don't. You don't even really know me."

"I know enough to say that you don't deserve to be with a dick like him."

"Stop it." I don't want to admit in my head that he's right, but…he is.

"I'm serious! You deserve better than to be ordered around all day." He takes the flashlight from me and points it at my clothes. "I bet that he makes you wear that weird costume every day, too!"

I nod sadly, my hands going to my head. "Yeah. This isn't even my real hair. It's a wig. I used to dye it, but most days he's so messed up that he can't even tell the difference. But I like to see my real hair every night when I go to bed. We don't even sleep in the same room. Isn't that sad?" I pull the pins out of my hair and lift the wig off my head. I feel my auburn hair tumble down my back like an avalanche. Bruce's eyes go wide again as he reaches out a hand to touch it.

"Why…why does he make you wear _that_ stupid thing? This is beautiful." He tucks the hair behind my right ear, and I wonder why he would show so much interest in my hair. Aren't men not supposed to know anything about hair?

I turn away from him and grope around the wall behind me. "There's gotta be a rag around here somewhere." Nooks and crannies line the wall, filled with random supplies. I feel metal, wood, and plastic things. Suddenly, my fingers touch rough fabric. Sure enough, it's a small cloth. I take it and vigorously wipe the fluorescent makeup off my face. When I take the rag off my face, it looks like a rainbow.

"And I talk in that stupid high-pitched voice when I'm around him," I explain, tossing the rag away. "I figure he doesn't deserve to hear the real me."

"You're right. I _did_ wonder what happened to your voice just now."

"I wish I could just leave him and live on my own, with no one to bother me."

"Well, then I would be more than happy to trade with you." He sighs, as if he had just missed an opportunity of a lifetime.

"How come?"

He sighs again and leans back against the wall. "Can you brief me on the story of the Gotham double-homicide?"

Um, can you say _random_? "Yeah, sure, but…I don't see how you wouldn't know about it, though. It's the most well-known murder in the city. I thought everybody's heard of it. It happened when I was kinda young, though, and some of the details are fuzzy. So this little twelve-year-old kid had billionaire parents that got mugged and shot by some anonymous villain, and the kid had no other living relatives. And he refused to be sent to an orphanage, and basically just raised himself in his big house. His name was…oh, God, what was that kid's name? This is gonna kill me forever…It's something like…Boris Welch, or, uh, Bryce Wirth, or…"

Then, like a heroic punch in the face from Captain Obvious, the realization suddenly comes to me. I look back up at Bruce, his eyes focused vaguely at a point on the wall behind me, as if trying to escape to a better world.

"But…aren't you married?" I ask him tentatively. "Or don't you have a girlfriend or something? Anyone?"

"My butler."

"Does he count?"

"Maybe."

More silence.

Then, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, "I don't have anyone, Candy. All I have are the citizens of Gotham, but they just like me because I fight crime. They don't know that I stay alone in my house, doing absolutely nothing. I don't call anyone. I don't have any friends. I don't go out at night, because that's when I work." When he opens his eyes back up, they're full of pain, pure pain. "People just think of me as that weird lonely guy who sits in his mansion, counting his money. But I hate it. I want to live, not be obligated to save Gotham. I love doing it, but I've always felt like there's something more to life."

"That's…that's how I've always felt with Sweet Tooth."

Again, silence. Suddenly, he leans forward. "Come here." I do. He reaches out and pulls me into a tight hug, nearly crushing my ribs. I don't think he realizes how strong he is, but that's alright. I don't mind. I actually…like it.

After a long while, we separate simultaneously. He stays close, though, with his face just mere inches from mine. I can feel the blood pumping profusely in my brain. Just then, a piece of hair falls down from behind my right ear. Slowly, he reaches out and pushes it back with as much care as a spy cutting the wires on an explosive. The hand behind my ear slowly travels to my cheek. His touch is so light I almost shiver. Then he says:

"You have no idea how long I've been alone."

If our social and emotional bond is the only thing that would make Bruce kiss me, then I'll take it.


End file.
